Prologue

"Harry, Harry…..HARRY!"

Blood curdling screams echoed through the mind of one disturbed young man. The screams increased in volume over a period of time until they reached their highest pitch. Then those screams grew softer until the figures around them grew to silence.

A figure thumped to the ground, blood dripping from his hands with each flash of light. The white energy engulfed surrounding area. Everything faded off into the distance as it had slowly been erased from existence. The only color present dripped from the hands of the figure kneeling on the ground.

Dark shapes appeared and a tall man with billowing black robes and a hood flashed in front of the individual on the ground. The chalk white face stood out with slit like red eyes who resembled a snake. Several bodies without faces popped up and the snake-faced man struck them down. The faces flashed over the bodies for a scant second before turning into rotten worm ridden flesh.

Two bright lights clashed together and bright magical lights sliced into each other with intensity. The snake-faced figure burst into thousands of wisps of light which engulfed and corrupted the area around them.

More light penetrated the area where now London was being overlooked. Several robed figures with skeletal hands glided in towards the unexpected population. Men, women, and children all rushed with terror. None of them escaped the hands grabbing them and drawing the life force from their bodies.

London sat aflame and burned around them. The figures wilted into the dust and the scene shifted into the middle of the cemetery. Several graves flashed with the names blurred out. The moment the grave shifted into greater prominence, the images faded out one more time. The graves had been set aflame, burning out once and for all.

A towering beast of a sorcerer stood over a group of terrified people. They all bowed before them. The sorcerer's hand turned over and propelled the figures backwards. Blackened vines engulfed these men, women, and children. They twisted into abominations of themselves, as slimy and sickening as the man who controlled them.

The sorcerer conducted his symphony of evil. The twisted abominations caused anyone who stood in their path to recoil in horror.

Assimilation or death was the only two choices for this parasite of magic. One lone wizard stood against them. A flash of light burned through the creatures. A vibrating arm exerted will into the belly of the beast and the parasite exploded into a shower of blood and guts.

The parasite hit the ground and rotted. All of the souls it ensnared fell alongside with it. Several accusing eyes fell on the hero who saved the day.

"GUILTY, GUILTY, GUILTY!

Chains rattled, hooked to the wrist of a faceless individual who had been lead into the court. The eyes of several people looked at them. Some gave sympathetic smiles, trying to say it would all work out for the best.

The patronizing burned more than any accusation. Several old men sat across from him. The chains loosened from the wrists and clattered down to the ground.

Words with no sound came from the gentlemen overseeing this particular court session. They all pointed towards the figure of their ridicule. Some days a hero, other days a scapegoat for whatever problems which they sought to lay at his feet. Some feared him because of what he was and what they thought he could become.

Those accusing eyes continued to linger on the hero who saved the day. Words with no sound came out of the hero's mouth. One of them put a long gnarled finger at him.

The image shifted to the figure being escorted down a long and winding hallway. No need to hear any words. No need to have any discussion. They made up their minds. It was all for the best. No one blamed him, but it looked bad. The blood on his hands did not reflect bad on a world whose control slipped with each passing moment.

Body temperature rose a couple degrees at first and then escalated. The group all backed off. One of them moved to put out the flames before they spread. The jets of water flowing from their wands were about as successful as if they just spit on the fallen hero.

Nineteen minutes later, it all ended, and all was well. The world changed one more time around the figure.

The limited amount of oxygen strained the lungs of the captive individual. A thump, thump, thump, thump, echoed against the glass case. The glass case reduced to several shattered fragments.

Fluids dripped from the container when the occupant fell out of the container. The lab had been abandoned….deep underneath ground. The figure caught sight of his reflection in a faded mirror for only a brief second to see the scars down his body.

Abandoned, gone, down here, and forgotten. The prisoner took the first of series of tentative steps. An energy field wrapped around him a second after having escaped.

One gnarled finger pointed from the shadows. The last one who occupied this facility, lurched across the room. The prisoner, once a man, now something else, arched his neck.

"Help, save us."

These three words had been the only ones to register with the prisoner. Did he save people? He had been down here for so long he did not know.

"Dying….gone."

Was he some kind of savior? The figure ripped a tube from his arm and walked towards this mysterious man….there was a word for him?

Jailer, his jailer, the figure reached in.

"Gotten worse, since you had been put to sleep….."

The jailer gasped when one outstretched hand found him. The images continued to flash and several shadows flickered. The souls screamed out for help and one name hit the young man.

"HARRY!"

"My name is…"

"Yes, you're Harry….Potter," the jailer said. "You were the Boy-Who-Lived. Do you remember what you were?"

"Pariah, monster, demon," he hissed. "Murderer. Dark sorcerer."

"No, hero," the jailer said. "We made a grave mistake."

The hood fell back to reveal the final Unspeakable's face. Regardless of what really existed underneath the mask, the only image which flashed underneath the hood was a long white beard and twinkling blue eyes.

The decapitated head of the jailer hung in the gentleman's hand. More blood dripped from his hand, more blood splashed the ground.

A thump signified something hitting the bed. A figure wrapped into a straightjacket fell back and a trio of individuals looked at him.

Sympathy spread over their faces. They spoke in tongues with a foreign language.

"Leave me," he said. "Leave me!"

They did not listen to a word he said. The straight jacket snapped and held the young man in place. A woman dressed in custom made robes stepped into the office.

"What did the Ministry do to him?" one of the healers asked.

"Harry, do you remember who you are?" the Minister asked.

Haunting, lifeless green eyes looked back in the blurred, blank, face of the Minister.

"Remember death," he said.

"You saved a lot of lives that day….we understand it now, we had no choice but to….well it's too late now for any of us," she said. "All we can do is make amends and hope….beg for your forgiveness."

The feral expression in the sorcerer's eyes turned wilder. Those images of death, images of hatred flowed through them. His entire body being cut open, and internal organs being removed to see if he had the power to regrow them.

"We're down to less than a hundred," she said. "Voldemort released a virus when you defeated him, it's been crippling us all…..he created it through your blood."

These words meant nothing. They had been part of a life which only had existed in his memories.

"We think your blood may also be the cure to save what remains," she said. "Please, Harry…."

The Minister of Magic started to cough up blood. The healers caught her before she hit the ground. The Minister strained to breath. Every time she breathed, her lungs clenched up. The healers tried in vain to stabilize her. The wild seizures continued.

Red swirls of light surrounded the captive sorcerer. He walked to a window at the hospital and jumped right through it. The glass sliced the retreating patient and splashed the ground.

The healers watched the bright light flash in the air. A dark shape flew away from the hospital and moved at mind numbing speed.

Home, he was going home. The same place where he had been imprisoned in before these healers moved him. The figure stepped in front of the room and walked towards it. The whispers of the lost echoed on the other side of the veil.

The world decayed further around him.

The figure spread his arms and red energy flashed around his body. The air burned him and he would be the very last to die along this world.

By leaving this world, lives could be saved. One last act of defiance before he moved on to finally be at peace.

The words "we're sorry" were the very last thing he heard before taking one bold step through the veil. Through death, he had been given new life and brought new life to those who he left behind.

Nineteen years after defeating Voldemort, all was finally well.

'MY NAME IS HARRY POTTER!'

Harry Potter's eyes shot open. He found himself secured on a bed by restraints which did not improve his mood. The fact he remained trapped in a hospital improved Harry's mood even less.

"Hey!"

Harry's vocal cords only let out a raspy word as if he not talked in a while.

The last thing he remembered….presently, Harry could not remember the last thing he remembered. The only thing which he could be one hundred percent certain of was his name was Harry Potter and he could perform magic. The rest had been a muddled mix where he could not determine what was concocted by his own disturbed mind and what actually happened.

'Reality, a stranger fiction than fantasy.'

Harry also could not perform magic. A glowing blue light, a containment field answered the question as to why. Or it did, before the energy field shut off and Harry released the straps. He wobbled when rising from the bed and almost fell back.

Why did he have a feeling it had been a long time since he walked?

Harry had been left with his own scrambled thoughts so long he did not hear the door open and a figure walking towards him, although behind another barrier. The lights had not turned on, but from what Harry could make out, a female.

"He's…he's awake?"

To Be Continued.